Can You See In The Dark?
by Urgetofall
Summary: When Sherlock and John travel overseas for a case, they get caught and Sherlock has one hour to finish Jigsaw's game in order to save them both.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock awoke to a faint beeping, opening his eyes slowly with no difference to the darkness. From what he could tell, he was wearing a blindfold.

Pushing himself up from the cool concrete floor he raised his hand feeling the blindfold. It was made of metal, bound together by straps and buckles that were all locked together.

In attempt to figure out where he was he felt his way to the damp, peeling wall. There weren't any possible clues that would give away where he was.

Nothing.

Sherlock made his way to the other side of the room where the beeping noise was. The beeping was coming from a steel door. He grabbed the handle and attempted to open the door, with no such luck.

"Damn!" he exclaimed smashing his fist on the door, "Of course he would get me. Of course it was a trap."

'Dare to play, Sherlock Holmes'

Those words echoing in his mind, mocking him constantly.

Moments later there was a static noise causing his blind attention to be drawn to the left. A deep male voice began speaking:

'_Hello Sherlock Holmes. It was nice of you to come out and play. I trust that you are wondering where you are, but that is not important. The only thing that is important here is salvation. Up until now you have used your eyes to observe the world, only taking in what you deem as important. Due to your nature, you are blind to what is really important. I assure you, the blindfold you wear is perfectly harmless. Just think of it as a symbol. Your obsessions drive the people who care away from you and have brought you to me. As for Dr. John Watson, -the most loyal of all- the moment he walked out that door he was taken into my care.' _

There was another sound of static before Sherlock could hear John shouting:

'_Hello? Is anyone there! Where am I?' _

There was a short scream, the sound of John struggling. Sherlock flinched at the sound of John's voice. Through the entire time of knowing one another he had never heard John sound so scared, so vulnerable.

"John" Sherlock choked out as he slid down the door.

'_Oh God. Am I going to die here? Oh, oh Sherlock. I'm so sorry…' _

Sherlock rested his forehead to the steel door. "Oh John" Sherlock managed, "You were right. I'm so sorry."

There was more static signaling back to Jigsaw as he continued:

'_You will see John again, if you can win the game. By now, I expect you would have found the steel door. If you follow the corridors, you will be faced with four challenges. In each challenge you will find a key to the locks on the blindfold. You have one hour' _

A click came at the door. Sherlock reached his hand up grabbing the handle again. He slowly stood, opening the door.

_'Tell me Sherlock, can you see in the dark? Let the game begin.'_

* * *

><p>John awoke in a darkened room, lit dimly by the single light above him. His hands and ankles were bound to the wooden seat.<p>

He screamed, shaking his arms and legs in attempt to release the restraints. A few moments passed and he realized that wasn't going to work.

In an attempt to figure out where he was he looked around the dimly lit room.

The walls were rotten and dark, no windows with two steel doors. One in front of him, and the other behind. Above the door was a digital clock.

_01:00:00 _

Just off to the left of him there was a television set. Next to it, a small table with a few surgical tools, scans and a tape.

"_Hello? Is anyone there! Where am I?" _

He screamed again, struggling to move his bound hands. He didn't need to ask what was happened. He knew already. Of course he knew it was one of Jigsaw's games. How could it be anything else?

"_Oh God. Am I going to die here? Oh, oh Sherlock. I'm so sorry."_

The television flickered on showing a creepy doll on a tricycle. It slowly turned it's head towards the camera.

'_Hello Dr. Watson. Make no attempt in escaping. The bounds you wear are locked in place. Only, where is the key? Right now another game is at play. Sherlock Holmes is three steps away from making his way to you. You're only hope is he can make it to you in time.' _

The television flickered to a video feed of Sherlock standing at the door slowly opening it. John narrowed his eyes as Sherlock turned his head to the left then back away. _Was he… Blindfolded? _

John glanced back up the clock that was now ticking as the television flickered off.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock felt his way along the walls of the corridors, attempting to open locked doors, while also crashing into tables, chairs or crates.

"We'll get out of this, John. Don't you worry" he told himself, "When I do, I'm going to kill Mycroft! Bastard"

Of course Sherlock would like to find someone else to blame, even if this was all his own fault. In fact, it was only two days before when Mycroft had brought him the case.

* * *

><p>"Say that again."<p>

"You've been requested." Mycroft repeated with a small smile holding up a folder. "I'm sure you would enjoy this case."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he plucked at his violin, "Why would I be interested?"

"From what I've seen, it's quite a challenge."

"Well, I'm really not. So if you don't mind." Sherlock waved his hand as John entered the lounge room carrying tea for each of the brothers.

This would surely give him the incentive to stay, Sherlock sighed.

"Thank you, John." said Mycroft taking a sip from his tea before turning his attention back to his brother, "You won't even look at the case?"

"No."

Mycroft glanced up to John holding the file, "What about you John, care to take a look?"

John raised an eyebrow as he perched himself on the arm of Sherlock's chair. With a shrug he reached forward grabbing the folder.

John stopped abruptly on the first image. A photo that consisted of the words, _'Dare to play, Sherlock Holmes'_ written in what appeared to be blood on a wall.

"Ah Sherlock…" John held the picture in front of Sherlock causing him to put his violin to the side, then snatch the file from John.

"Of course, by requested, you meant by the murderer?"

He flicked through the folder, John turning as white as a ghost due to some of the images.

After a few more moments of silence, Sherlock closed the file putting it to the side, "You actually brought me something interesting." He paused for a moment, "I've seen my fair share, but nothing quite like this."

Sherlock leaned back, crossing his legs and steeping his fingers at his lips in thought.

"This happened in America?" asked John, Mycroft nodding in response, "Then what does that have to do with Sherlock? Surely he couldn't have heard of him."  
>"I'll admit, it is a tad strange." Mycroft continued, "But, undoubtedly there had to be a reason why they would want Sherlock."<p>

"Sherlock, you're not considering this, are you?"

Sherlock gazed up at John for a moment, biting on hit bottom lip, then he stood slowly. "I'll assume you already booked us a flight."

"Sherlock?" there was a tone of concern in John's voice.

Sherlock turned to him with a small smile, "Not to worry, John. Everything will be fine."

"Somehow I doubt that." he scoffed as he crossed his arms.

Mycroft stood, pulling out two plane tickets from his jacket pocket, "You leave in two hours. Better get packing."

With that, Mycroft left the two in the flat. John watching in concern as Sherlock practically danced around the room like it was Christmas.

* * *

><p>Near the end of the corridor, he stopped at a door. It wasn't locked, it just had some pressure against it.<p>

He felt along the wood for a moment, the words _'Find The Connection'_ carved into it.

_Connection? What connection? _

He was slightly cautious as he applied a small amount of pressure against the door, uncertain trap lies beyond the door.

* * *

><p>Matthews rushed into Detective Johnson's office, barely knocking as he entered.<p>

"Sir," he started, "We've got a problem. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson have been taken."

The other detective looked up from the files he was reading in a small state of confusion.

"What?"

"I just received this tape from the hotel." he replied holding up the tape.

Johnson took the tape from him, putting it in the video player.

The tape showed two unknown people standing around the corner from Sherlock and John's room. As time went by, John exited the room only to be captured by them. Almost half an hour later Sherlock left the room, and was noted to be seen in several places before he returned, only he wasn't alone. One of the figures had slipped into the room while Sherlock was gone, and after five minutes, Sherlock was seen carried out of the room by one of the unidentified figures.

Knowing that was all to the tape had to offer, the detective collected up some equipment and began walking out the door with Johnson following closely behind.

"Perhaps someone witnessed this, they couldn't have just been taken out unseen." he stated, "We'll also check out their room."


	3. Chapter 3

He opened the door slowly to hear two male voices yelling at each other. Judging by the groans coming from the men, the light had suddenly flicked on, blinding them.

Sherlock stepped forward slowly, the two men calling from each side of him.

"Are you the sick bastard that put us in here?" the man on the left of Sherlock called.

"Has to be." the one on the right replied, "What's with the mask fuckwit. Don't want to see your victims face."

Rolling his eyes from behind the mask Sherlock held up a hand. "Shut up" he ordered, "It's obvious that I'm part of the game."

There was a small table in the middle of the room. On the table, two identical metal machines that could easily fit your hands in it sat side by side, along with a tape in front of them.

"Now, be quiet while I listen to this tape" he growled at the two men.

The two men went silent as Sherlock pressed play, waiting for Jigsaw to begin speaking:

'_You've made it to your first challenge while working blind, such talent, but you will need more to win this game. There are two men in this room, right now, they are bound in chains with electric saws to each side of their torso's. One of these men is a murderer. Normally you would use your observation skills and know instantly who the murderer is, but this time you must use your other senses to decide who is worthy of life. Once decided, you have to make your own sacrifice. There are two identical devices on the table, linking up with the electric saws. When the saws begin, you will have sixty seconds to make your choice. Only by putting your hand into one of the devices and pressing the button will stop the electric saws in their tracks. Only if you can withstand the puncture to your hand, will the man you choose stay alive. Make the connection, Sherlock. Let the games begin.' _

"What does that mean?"

"It's the game, obviously." Sherlock leaned onto the table with a heavy sigh, placing the tape back down he felt at the devices. He placed his hand into one, getting a feel of the inside. There was obviously a type of nail that would puncture his hand. Whether there would permanent damage was difficult to predict.

"He dude, you've got to save me. I haven't killed anyone." the man on the left called

"He's a liar."

"No, I'm not lying!"

"I'm the innocent one. Please, save me"

"Shut up!" Sherlock demanded throwing his head back for a moment. He turned to the left, "Who are you? What do you do?"

The man seemed a little startled by the question, "My name is Tony. I just work in a bank. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

"Oh that's bullshit" the man from behind said, "Trust me mate, he is the killer."

"Alright mate, what is it you do?"

The man on the right sighed, "My name is Steven, I'm a high school teacher."

"Likely story."

"I am."

Suddenly there was the sound of electric saws starting causing Sherlock to flinch slightly.

How could he be sure which one was actually a murderer without seeing them. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. There wasn't much to go with, only their names and the jobs they claim to have.

_40 seconds._

"Oi, they're gettin closer." Steven stated, "Are you gonna help me?"

"No, no, no. Help me!"

There was more of a sense of urgency in Tony's voice.

"Either of you got family? Kids?" Sherlock questioned.

"Yes" Steven said, "I have a wife and two sons"

Tony was silent for a moment, "No, not anymore."

Sherlock tilted his head in a small state of confusion.

"They were murdered."

_30 seconds_

"See! He must have killed his family."

"Shut up!" Tony ordered, "You don't know what you're talking about."

There was a distinct tone of sadness and regret in Tony's voice.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked.

"Urgh, we don't have time for this."

"I came home late one night after work and found them. As far as I know they haven't found the murderer."

_20 seconds. _

_There was a connection, it was clear as day._

Sherlock hesitantly placed his hand in the left device. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the button down slowly. The nail pressed down, puncturing his hand, causing him to cry out in pain. The saws by Tony slowly came to a stop.

"I may be blinded right now" Sherlock started, clawing at the table with his free hand, "But, one thing for sure is I know when someone is lying."

_Make the connection._

Sherlock knelt down, practically clawing the table with his free hand. "Tony's family was murdered. The killer got away only to be caught by Jigsaw himself. You thought no one knew Steven, but someone was watching."

The electric saws began cutting into Steven's waist, causing him to scream in pain. It was almost a screech as the continued.

"Oh God" said Tony, voice trembling as he screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see Steven die.

Slowly as the blood drew out, his screams faded into silence. The lower half of his body dropped to the ground, the chains clinking as it did so.

The sound of the saws slowed down, stopping moments later. The nail withdrew from Sherlock's hand causing him to cringe in pain.

Pulling his hand out hastily, he tore a piece of material from his shirt and wrapped it around his hand tightly to stop the blood escaping.

"Oh, God" Tony managed as Sherlock walked over to him, "What the hell?"

"Have you got a key on you?" he asked.

Tony swallowed, his voice shaking, "Yeah, the chain around my neck."

Sherlock reached up grabbing the chain, then yanked it from his neck and placed it in his pocket before turning to leave.

"Hey, wait" Tony called "Are you coming back for me?"

"I have no doubt that someone will come for you" stated Sherlock, glancing over his shoulder before continuing.


	4. Chapter 4

'_Of course it matters. I worry about you Sherlock. _

_Not only as a doctor, but as a friend, I'm scared your obsession with this case is going to kill you.'_

Sherlock collapsed against the wall with groan, his hand still throbbing in pain, and the fight between him and John from the previous night playing in his head over and over again.

* * *

><p>Sherlock's body tensed up for a moment before falling onto the bed with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Oh, what would that matter?"<p>

"So, for this obsession…" John paused for a moment holding back tears, "You'd gladly give your life."

Sherlock stood, standing over John in attempt to seem intimidating, "If it meant I could take down Jigsaw, then yes."

"What about those who care about you?" John asked, voice lowering.

Sherlock ran his hand through his hair in frustration, "I'm sure they would carry on."

John's eyes lowered as he bit his bottom lip. Oh was all he managed out before turning away.

"I know you always say the work is important, Sherlock" John continued slowly, "But you're completely blind. Saying the world would just carry on, that's just selfish."

"John, I di-"

"You know what, do what you want. I wouldn't expect you to understand." He snapped as he put his jacket on with a sigh, "Try not to get yourself killed. Just know this, I wouldn't… couldn't just carry on without you."

John wiped his tear filled eyes, his name whispered one more time before leaving the hotel room.

* * *

><p>Sherlock pushed himself up from the wall, repeating <em>'I'm sorry John.'<em> and _'I'll get us out of this. I promise'_

After feeling his way along the corridor he came to the second door. He took in a deep breath before pushing through.

* * *

><p>Detective Matthews and Johnson were let into Sherlock and John's hotel room. They wandered around completely surprised at the files, photos and map on the walls.<p>

Johnson stopped at the map, examining it while Matthews wandered around the room.

"What the hell?" he started, "How did he get his hands on all these files?" He rolled his eyes, knowing it was probably Mycroft who gave him access. He was the British government after all. He was bound to be able to get his hands on case files when he wanted to.

"Sir, look at these." Johnson gestured to the map.

Matthews let out a heavy sigh as he wandered to the map, examining it. "It looks like he's marked out places where others have been murdered, so?"

"It's not that," he pointed at the pins, "The red ones are where murder victims have been found, yes. So what are the green ones?"

Genius, Matthews thought as a small smile crossed his face before he spoke.

"Possibilities."


	5. Chapter 5

The moment he had opened the door, a woman began calling to him. "Oh my God, help, help me please!"

He took a few more steps forward until the woman screamed for him to stop. "Why?" he questioned, tilting his head in a small state of confusion.

"Um, well there are floorboards set up." she started, "Like a maze, and if you fall, well... you'll fall into a bed of nails."

Sherlock nodded slightly, "Is there a tape recorder around?"

"Just to your right. It's hanging from the roof."

Sherlock reached up to his right, grabbing the recorder and pressed play.

_'Hello Sherlock, across the other side of the room is a woman. Most of the victims from your cases are innocent people, just like Samantha here, and now her life rests in your hands, as the same in reverse. In order for you to get to her in time she will need to lead you across the floorboards, making sure you don't fall onto the bed of the nails. If you fail to reach her, she the bounds holding her arms will release, allowing her to fall. You're first step will start the five minute timer. Let the game begin.'_

"Oh brilliant," she sighed, "How is this going to work?"

Sherlock let out a heavy sigh. "Guide me," he stated, "Tell me what to do."

"Oh, um well..." the woman paused for a brief moment, examining the surrounding area. "There is a floorboard directly in front of you, take three steps forward."

Sherlock complied, cautiously walking the three steps.

"Alright, now turn left..." Samantha stated then let out a small gasp, "No sorry, turn right." she hastily added.

Sherlock bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something, then slowly turned to the left, awaiting his next instructions.

Samantha gave a series of instructions and Sherlock walked slowly, almost slipping two times due to a few faulty floorboards.

He was barely three meters away from Samantha when she let out a shriek, falling until she took a hold of the edge of the floorboard.

"Please, help me." she begged in a panicked voice as she tried to pull herself up.

"You need to tell me what to do!" he exclaimed.

Through a panicked voice she gave more instructions. "Please hurry," she added, "I don't know now much longer I can hold on."

Sherlock cautiously, but quickly made his way to her. He knelt down carefully feeling for her hand. Samantha reached up one hand and clasped it around Sherlock's wrist tightly.

With his free hand he tried pushing himself back up with no such luck, and it wasn't helping that the wood beneath his feet was barely big enough to kneel on.

"Please," she begged, "Don't let me fall."

Sherlock's mouth gaped slightly at her scared plea. He tried harder to pull Samantha up, but her hands were slipping from his.

It wasn't enough.

Her hands slipped from his, a faint scream came from Samantha before falling onto the spikes on the ground, puncturing her body instantly.

Sherlock's breath caught for a moment as he clasped a hand over his mouth.

It had been a while since this had happened, since someone had died at his hand because of simple mistakes.

"Fuck"

Sherlock Holmes does not make mistakes - perhaps the tiniest details, but nothing like this.

"Is this what you want?" Sherlock screamed with no one to listen, "You want to prove that even I make mistakes? Even I can't save everyone? Even I have a heart?"

No, this wasn't the time, he thought as he took in a deep breath, collecting himself back up together.

After a few more deep breaths, he reached out his hand in search of a platform that was bound to be there. It was barely an arms length away, easily enough to get to.

He stood slowly, all emotion cleared from his face. Taking a guess Sherlock reached up to the metal cuffs that bound Samantha's hands together and found a key attached by a chain to it.

"Bastard probably knew I wouldn't be able to save her." he scoffed as placed the key with the other in his pocket, then jumped to the other side.

There was something almost dark, more determined about Sherlock as he exited the room.

"I will finish this game Jigsaw. I have no doubt in my mind about that."


	6. Chapter 6

Being alone in that dimly lit room, certainly gave John time to think about things. Time seemed to be passing almost too quickly and he was fearing Sherlock wouldn't make it in time.

_00:44:36_

The silence was deafening after the television had flicked off again. John waited patiently knowing that it would soon turn on, showing Sherlock's third challenge.

* * *

><p><em>00:56:14<em>

It was mere seconds when the television flickered on, startling John slightly, to show video feed of Sherlock walking into a room with two men hanging either side of him.

If there was actually sound, John would have understood more than the two men screaming back and forth between one another with Sherlock obviously getting irritated in the middle.

Then it showed. In all the panic and mayhem of the saws heading towards the men John saw Sherlock's irritation flood away and turn into sadness as he mouthed the words 'What happened?'

It hadn't taken much longer before Sherlock had placed his hand into one of the devices on the table.

John let out a small gasp when he saw the pained expression on his face as he fell to the floor, and somehow still managed to continue speaking.

"Shit, shit, shit" John mumbled repeatedly, "Oh, God."

There was a part of John that wanted to look away from the screen as the man was being killed, but the other part of him _needed_ to see, even if it meant seeing his best friend in pain.

The moment Sherlock stood from the ground, pulling his hand from the device, the television flickered into static.

"No, come on" John complained, "I need to know what's happening. You can't just leave me like this. I need to see him."

* * *

><p><em>00:51:58<em>

It may have only been four minutes when the television turned on again, but to John it felt like forever.

Silence wasn't something he was used to, especially with Sherlock as a flat mate and right now all he wanted was Sherlock to be there and say something, anything.  
>John's heart jumped when Sherlock almost stepped off the edge, obviously unaware of the missing floorboards at this point.<p>

It didn't take long before Sherlock was following instructions, and walking along the floorboards. John became faintly panicked when Sherlock almost slipped, but his panic grew when the woman's bounds released causing her to fall.

"Come on, Sherlock." John encouraged - even knowing Sherlock couldn't hear him - "You can do this. Come on."

While he cautiously made his way to the woman, John bit his lip, his smile growing slightly when he knelt down and took the woman's hand.

John's entire body froze, his mouth gaping as the woman slipped from his hands, letting her fall.

"Oh, Sherlock," John whispered closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, "I'm so sorry."

When it came to Sherlock's work, there was so much he could handle, and John knew a person dying at his hands wasn't one of them.

John glanced down at the darkened TV, then threw his head back, sighed deeply.

All John wanted at that one moment was to be by Sherlock's side and tell him it's okay, even if he claimed he wasn't hurting.

"Sherlock…"

* * *

><p>Matthews was sitting on the edge of the bed going through Sherlock's files and notes, while his men worked around the room in search of clues. He was amazed at what Sherlock had accomplished on the two days they had been there.<p>

"This man is a genius." Matthews shook his head slightly with a smile, throwing the file back onto the bed and stood. "Have you got anything yet?"

"No sir," one of the officers said, "There wasn't any sign of a struggle, and there were no witnesses. It's like they passed through the hotel like ghosts."

"They always do." he sighed.

"I swear, they have no respect for the hotel." muttered Johnson as he pulled a knife from the map on the wall, "We're not paying for that."

The other men continued while Matthews walked up to the map again.

"I'm missing something, I'm sure of it."

For a moment, he seemed to be stuck in his own little world until Johnson placed a hand on his back. "You alright, sir?" he asked.

Matthews nodded, then turned to his men. "Looks like we won't find anything. We're done here."


	7. Chapter 7

The three people on the other side of the room were bound into chairs in a line. They struggled with their bounds in attempt to get free, but soon noticed Sherlock had entered the room and called for him to help them.

"Excuse me," started Sherlock, ignoring the three people, "As you can see, I am blinded at the moment, so if you don't mind, where is the tape?"

He didn't exactly want to waste any time, since he wasn't completely sure how much time he had until the doors to freedom with John locked forever.

"Small table to your right." the young woman said in a shaky, small voice. Sherlock leaned against the wall, then picked up the recorder to listen to Jigsaw's message with a small sigh.

'_You're nearing the end of your journey, but first you must save the three people that sit before you. You must pull three levers to save their lives that reside along the walls. Careful though, certain points of the floor have pressure points that will pull each individual back by the chains around their neck until a bear trap snaps shut against them. Let the game begin.'_

Sherlock tossed the recorder back onto the table in frustration, then ran a hand through his hair.

"Are you going to help us or what?" one of the men called.

Sherlock raised his head. He was getting tired of this game. As interesting as it is, he just wanted to be with John.

"Yeah" he mumbled, barely a whisper.

The girl told him that the closest lever was on the left wall about four two meters away. With some direction he made his way there.

Once he hit a pressure point causing one of the men to be pulled back slightly.

"Be careful" he growled, "I'd like to get out of this alive."

Sherlock shook his head before he continued.

The second time he hit, the girl was pulled back stopping mere inches away from the trap. Her breath had caught for a moment before she collect herself up to tell Sherlock where to go.

When he had reached the lever he hesitated, letting his hand linger on it. There was no way he could be sure the lever would actually save one of them or kill them. He figured Jigsaw wasn't one to lie so he pulled.

An piece of wood, much like a battering ram, from above was released, falling down until right in front of the young girl, she screamed as she jumped back hitting her head on the release button. Her entire body froze assuming she would be killed right there and then, but nothing happened.

She opened her eyes slowly to see the piece of wood from above in front of her face. The trap had released, but it was clasped around the wood now, stopping it from doing any harm to her.

She let out a loud sigh of relief then began mumbling thank you's aimed at Sherlock.

He began ignoring her after the first thank you, as he made his way around the room to find the other levers.

Sherlock stepped onto a pressure point causing one of the men to be pulled back two inches.

"Would you be careful!" He exclaimed.

"He's gonna get us killed."

"No he won't. He's already saved my life." the girl retorted.

The man who had just been pulled back sighed loudly, "Oh, lucky you, ungrateful bitch."

Sherlock gritted his teeth and turned to the three people who were now bickering like little children.

"Some peace and quiet would be good right about now." he started, "If you don't shut up right now, I'll leave you here. So from now on you will only speak when I ask you questions."

It seemed childish to threaten them in such a manor, but by this point he didn't care.

Instantly, the three stopped fighting and sat still waiting for Sherlock.

Sherlock gave his famous fake smile and turned around. "Good." he smirked, "Now where is another of the levers"

The two men glanced around the room, then one replied, "There is one on the other side, straight ahead."

"Alright, now quiet please."

There was something he had learnt in the silence of the room. If the floorboard had creaked, there was a good chance it would pull them back and kill them.

Much like he had expected, accidently stepping down, one of the men was pulled back hitting his head on the release, allowing the bear trap to clamp shit.

A faint scream came from the woman when the blood splattered onto her face, while the man dying let out faint chokes and coughs.

It was expected. The probability of all three surviving was very low, and he knew that. Then why did it still hurt?

Of course he knew he wasn't heartless, and he hated when people called him that. It was in his nature to act the way he did, but sometimes the him that he tried to hide so well showed through.

Sherlock listened carefully to the man who was dying, the choked gargled noises soon faded into nothingness.

Would it always end this way? When peoples lives are at stake, there will always be one that is lost by his hand.

"Excuse me? Hello?" the other man called, panicked.

There was no way Sherlock couldn't stop now, not when he was so close.

He continued forward until he reached the lever. When he pulled it, thankfully, it had released the wood from the roof for the other man. Once it fell closer, he jumped back, the clamps of the bear trap clasping around it.

It's almost over, Sherlock thought as he wandered to the men who was mumbling under his breath - most likely praying.

Sherlock wandered to the three people in a row, reaching for their necks. It seemed strange, but each person had a key on them, considering he only needed four

Two false keys, he guessed, no doubt it is expected that he would need to figure it out.

"Wait, wait!" The woman called as Sherlock felt his way to a door nearby, "You can't leave us here. Please… Don't go."

Begging. "You don't understand." Sherlock sighed, "It's all a game, and I have to finish it. If I don't we'll all be left here to die."

"What about us?" the man questioned.

"I'm coming back."


	8. Chapter 8

Matthews sat at the desk in his office with files spread out in front of him. His eye kept being drawn a photo of the map Sherlock had set up on the wall.

"Something is off" he mumbled to himself as he ran a hand through his short brown hair, "But what is it? What did I miss?"

_Red = Victims _

_Green = Possibilities._

Then there was the knife in the wall. It seemed out of place and almost planned, almost like a message.

"Johnson!" Matthews called as he got up and slipped his jacket on.

Johnson arrived a few moments later, "Yes, sir?"

"The map that Sherlock had set up," he started with a faint smile, "Didn't it seem odd to you?"

"Not really."

Matthews shook his head, his smile widening. "You remember the knife?" Johnson nodded in response, "What if it was placed there for a reason? What if it wasn't Sherlock."

"What do you mean?" he questioned with furrowed brows.

"See now, Sherlock is a genius, we all know that. What if he wasn't the one who planted the knife? What if where the knife was, is where they are."

Johnson shook his head in confusion, "I'm not following. Why would the killer lead us to them?"

"Because he's a genius too." Matthews responded, "I think he's clever enough to lead us right to him."

"Alright, were going on a hunch here?"

"Exactly."

After a few moments of consideration Johnson sighed, exasperated, "Alright, where are we going?"

"Downtown."


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock traced a hand down the metal door.

_This was it._

He took in a deep breath before slowly he heaved the door open, instantly hearing John call his name.

Sherlock stumbled forward reaching for him, "John."

He soon found John's hands bounding him to the chair with straps and locks. Each lock felt much the same as the one's on the back of his blindfold.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock questioned as he not so gently began feeling his way around John's body, examining practically every inch of him before settling his hands on his cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm fine." he replied, leaning into Sherlock's touch, "What about you?"

"Been better" Sherlock mumbled as he leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. He was almost too happy John couldn't see the tears forming behind the mask, but nothing would stop him noticing his shaking hands, or trembling lips.

A smile flickered on John's lips. Of course he had noticed. He saw it in the video feed, and he could feel it now. He knew exactly how Sherlock felt.

Sherlock fell to the ground in front of John, resting his face on John's knee. Damn everything, he thought. Right now, he just needed this, he needed John.

Moments had passed in silence before Sherlock even considered grabbing the keys from his pocket to release John. Three of the keys had fit his wrists and right ankle, but his left was still bound.

"What are the numbers for?"

Sherlock tilted his head in confusion, "The numbers?"

"On the keys," John continued, "there are numbers."

Sherlock took in a deep breath before placing the keys back in his pocket, then went back to resting his head on John's knee.

"I'm not sure yet."

John understood instantly that Sherlock seemed to forget about the entire game. That he just needed to stop, even if for a second.

For a few minutes they sat in the silence of unspoken words between one another, John consistently ran his hand through Sherlock's hair and along his cheek in a comforting motion.

"Sherlock, I need you to get something for me." John requested. Sherlock hummed in response, seemingly annoyed from being brought back to the game. "There is a table behind you. I need you to get me the scans and tape."

_Scans? _Sherlock popped his head up in confusion.

"Please just get them for me." John requested.

Sherlock found the table, he started picking things up, cataloging them. A few surgery tools, then he came across the scans and tape.

Turning back to John, he took a few steps, handing John the tape and scans.  
>"Thank you." He said.<p>

John tilted his head back to hold the scans to the dim light above, staring intently at the scans. There was no response from John for a while.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

Still no response. Sherlock could only hear that John's breath had caught for a moment.

"Tell me John."

Ignoring Sherlock, John sighed exasperated, "I'll play the tape. I'm sure it will explain everything."

John clicked the button. There was silence for a few moments before Jigsaw's voice started talking.

'_Congratulations Sherlock. You've reached Dr. Watson, but this isn't the end of the game. The scans that were given to you shows the key John must retrieve from you. He must retrieve the key in any way that seems fit. Could you do it Dr. Watson? Could you harm the person you hold closest to your heart to save him and yourself? Let the game begin.'_

The tape stopped, John's mouth was gaped, and Sherlock was back to kneeling in front of John.

"I-I don't think I can do this." John choked, "Not you, Sherlock."

"Oh, John" Sherlock breathed as he placed a hand on John's knee, "Of course you can."

"I don't want…" He paused for a moment, covering Sherlock's hand with his own. "I can't hurt you."

"Rather showing you're hand there aren't you."

"Always," John replied with a small smile, allowing a few tears to roll down his cheeks.

Sherlock was always so strong, but knowing that John was falling apart right now, seemed to stab him like a thousand knives.

"We've only got 19 minutes Sherlock." said John in a trembling voice, "I suppose I should get started."

Sherlock's voice was low, almost as shaky as John's voice, "What do I need to do?"

"Slide the table over here," he ordered, "I'm going to need to see what we're working with."

Sherlock complied, walking blindly to the table then dragging it back to John's side.

"No drugs," John sighed, "Pain and all, should be interesting."

"Where?"

"It's in the back of your neck." John stated, "Sit in front of me, and bow your head."  
>Sherlock nodded then obeyed.<p>

John reached down with one hand, pulling his collar down. He paused for a moment then traced his fingertips along a freshly stitched up wound that was already there.

"They must have done this while you were out of it." John applied pressure on the back of his neck in search for the key. "If it's not too deep in, it should hopefully be easier to get it." He continued.

John took in a deep breath as he picked up the scalpel with one hand, and placed the other next to where the key was. "Are you ready?"

Sherlock nodded slightly, "Just get it over and done with."

"Alright, I'm starting." John pressed the scalpel to Sherlock's neck, making an incision. The more he cut, the more Sherlock choked out cries of pain. He clawed into his leg until John pulled back, still keeping a hand on his neck.

"No, John, what are you doing?"

John held his hand to his lips, shaking his head, "Sorry."

A sad smile crossed John's face. He knew how painful it was to hurt - even if it will save their lives - someone you care for. There was no doubt John would have to perform surgery on his friends back when he was in Afghanistan, but things were different now.

Sherlock's voice lowered closer to a whisper as he placed his hand over John's hand, "John, please… If you don't do this, we will die here."

Sherlock tightened his grip on the hand that still rested on his neck for a moment.

"I trust you."

John froze for a brief moment, taking in what Sherlock had just said before he nodded. "Okay"

Sherlock prepared himself again, waiting for the moment the scalpel would cut into him again.

Soon enough, John put the scalpel back onto the table to the side. He pressed his fingers just onto the wound for a brief moment causing Sherlock to cringe from the pain.

"This is going to sting." He pressed his fingers just under the wound, digging in and shifting the key. Sherlock took in quick, sharp breaths through gritted teeth as John shifted the key and pulled it out from the wound.

John quickly wiped the bloodied key on his pants and unlocked the final lock around his ankle.

Sherlock shifted forward, holding a hand to the wound.

John quickly shifted to the ground, tearing a part of his shirt off to tie is around Sherlock's neck to apply pressure to the wound.

Once the cloth was tied with enough pressure, John instantly wrapped his arms around Sherlock tightly, burying his face into his shoulder. Sherlock froze for a moment before returning the embrace with a sad smile.

After a few more moments, John pulled back to grab the key that was still in the lock. He reached for the final mask and unlocked it.

"Ready to see the world again?" asked John as he worked in unhooking the buckles.  
>Sherlock bit his lip with a small smile, "Of course."<p>

John unhooked the final buckle then placed his fingers lightly over the edge of the mask. Sherlock took John's wrists in his hands, tilting his head as he pulled the mask off.

Although he was slightly blinded, the first thing he saw was John's grinning face. He thought he must have looked like an idiot when his grin widened..

"Never thought I'd see your face again."

"Never thought I'd _see_ you again."

Sherlock pouted and rolled his eyes, "Doubting my abilities even though I was blinded?"

John rested his forehead against Sherlock's again with closed eyes. "Never" he whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

They sat in the silence for a while, their foreheads still together before John spoke. "I'm sorry, Sherlock" he whispered, "I didn't mean to-"

Sherlock ran his hand along John's forearm, "John…"

"No, really if I could change things…"

"John listen to me," Sherlock cut in, pulling back slightly to face his friend properly, "You shouldn't blame yourself for this. It's all my fault and I am truly sorry. I never wanted to get you caught up in this."

"Don't be stupid." John shook his head, then lowered his eyes. Sherlock tilted his head in a small state of confusion, "I wouldn't have it any other way, Sherlock. I'll stick with you until the end."

John smiled and began laughing to himself, Sherlock joining moments later.

"Is this another one of those _we-shouldn't-be-laughing_ moments?" John grinned.

Sherlock smile faded before he stood up slowly, collecting the keys from around back up, as if he had been reminded of something. John stood watching him in confusion.

"What is it?" John asked, knowing how often Sherlock would get distracted when he remembered or thought of something clever.

"Stupid, stupid." he mumbled to himself, "The game isn't over, John."

"What?"

"I thought the game was only to make my way to you, but you said it." he stared at John for a moment before noticing he wasn't getting it, "The keys. You mentioned the numbers, why the numbers?"

John bit his lip, glancing over to the door, where it was now visible noticeable that a passcode was needed. "It's a code?"

"Exactly." Sherlock said, "The only question is how do we figure it out?"

John glanced up to the clock above the other door.

_00:04:57_

Noticing John, Sherlock glanced up to the clock. "Did we really waste fifteen minutes?"

"So sorry I was trying to be careful." John grumbled while rolling his eyes.

Sherlock pulled John's hands out in front of him, palms up.

"If we're going to get out of this," he continued, placing the keys face up in a row with the numbers showing.

_One, three, six, four, two, one_

"We need to figure out which two of the keys are fake." Sherlock stated as stared at the keys.

John raised an eyebrow in confusion, "What? How do you know?"

Sherlock smirked, "I thought that would be obvious."

"You just love knowing things others don't, don't you?" John sighed, "Just tell me."

"Well, think about it." Sherlock fiddled with one of the keys for a moment, then another, "Four challenges, four locks, and without a doubt, a four digit code."

John examined the keys, "Then how do you know what one's are fake?"

Sherlock shrugged, "_Find a connection_, it was the first thing I was 'told' in this entire game. The rules still count, don't they?"

John nodded as Sherlock continued to examine the keys, his mind moving at a mile a minute.

_Find the connection_

It couldn't have been clearer, as long as he remembered what the connection was between the keys and the challenges.

John swallowed hard when he noticed they just had over a minute to figure out the code.

In an instant Sherlock picked up the two keys with the numbers four and six on them. He took in a deep breath and tossed them aside.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock rearranged the keys in John's hands so that the numbers said: _two, one, three, one._

"That's it." he beamed.

He turned to punch in the numbers, but John had grabbed his wrist to stop him. "Are you sure?"

Sherlock noted the faint tone of concern and doubt in John's voice. He couldn't know what Sherlock was actually thinking, but he knew there was the fear of what would happen to them if he got it wrong.

"Trust me."

John loosened his grip on Sherlock's hand, then nodded.

Sherlock typed the password into the lock slowly as the time ticked down. When he hit the final button the sound of locks unhinging occurred.

They both turned back to the clock which had stopped with thirty seven seconds to spare, then let out a sigh of relief.

John pulled the door open, a smile widening on his face as he started for the door that was surely the exit to the building, with Sherlock following closely behind.

Never in John's life did he think that the cold night breeze would seem like heaven to him. He stopped for a moment, taking it all in before the flashing red and blue lights came around the corner.

Although they were slightly blinded by the lights, each of them couldn't be happier to see the police pulling up in front of them.

Detective Inspector Matthews and Johnson stepped out of the car. "Sherlock, John," Matthews called, "Glad to see you're alright."

John rolled his eyes at his comment. They were far from alright. There was no way that they would be fine, but he decided to hold his tongue.

"How did you find us?" Sherlock questioned.

Matthews examined the two men for injuries for a moment before replying. "It was kind of a hunch." he admitted, "It seems your kidnappers left us a clue."

"Oh, and you couldn't work it out sooner?"

"Well, we can't all be as clever as you."

Sherlock smirked, "No, I suppose not."

Sherlock told the detective inspector about the games, and that there were still people in there - alive and dead - before he joined John to wait against the wall.

"You never did say," he stared, "How did you figure out the code."

A faint smile pulled at the corner of Sherlock's lips. "Two, one, three, one." he finally said, "I told you to 'find the connection', and I also told you, four keys from four challenges."

"So?"

"So, the numbers represented the people."

John thought back to the video feed that he had witnessed earlier, then it hit him. It actually fit. He knew he wouldn't have been able to work it out then, but having it said out loud now seemed so simple.

"I will never know how that mind of yours works, Sherlock," John continued as he rested his head against his shoulder, "But, it's bloody brilliant."

Sherlock smiled slightly as he looked up into the star filled night sky. After all this time, the slightest of comments from John, still seemed to make things better.

"Thank you."

About another fifteen minutes later another two police cars and three ambulances were at the scene.

Although one of the nurses was taking care of Sherlock's wounds, John stayed by his side the entire time, and kept an eye on him.

Sherlock hissed at the nurse claiming she didn't know what she was doing and telling her to piss off.

"I still don't see why you couldn't take care of me." Sherlock sighed as the nurse finished bandaging his hand.

She rolled her eyes, and John smiled slightly. "I have no jurisdiction here." John responded as he took Sherlock's left hand in his own, "Besides, I think I've had enough of this for now."

"What should we do?"

"My opinion matters now, does it?" He teased with a small pause, "It's really up to you. I'll stay if you want to, or we could just leave."

Sherlock lowered his eyes, pressing his lips into a thin line. John was actually giving him the option now.

Sherlock had considered staying for a moment due to the unanswered question: _Who is Jigsaw?_ But in order to protect John he knew he would have to make some sacrifices.

He opened his mouth to speak, but paused when he glanced into John's eyes. "I suppose," he started with a small smile, "We can just wrap things up and leave."  
>John knew how important this case was to Sherlock, but he did appreciate the fact that he had decided they should go home.<p>

John gripped his hand tighter, his smile widening. "It will feel better to be back home."

Sherlock returned a warm smile, then lied back in the bed carefully to not hit the wound. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am."

* * *

><p>The hooded figure watched Sherlock from the other side of the gate, hidden away in the shadows, away from sight.<p>

He watched him for a while before a young woman touched his arm gently. He turned his head to see his young apprentice. "Hello, Amanda." he smiled before looking back to Sherlock.

"How did he do, John?" Amanda asked in a small voice.

"The answer lies before you."

Amanda peeked around the gate to see Sherlock lying on the bed with John by his side holding his hand. She smiled slightly then placed her hand on his arm in order to lead him away, "You were quite fond of him, weren't you?"

"He's quite brilliant, but he took it all for granted." He took a few steps away from the gate, "Judging from what I have seen, he won't act as such anymore."

Amanda linked arms with John ."We should go, unless you want to be discovered."

John let out a small sigh and nodded. He glanced over his shoulder one final time before he continued to walk by Amanda's side.

"We wouldn't want that now, would we?"


	11. After The Dark

Sherlock fidgeted in the hospital bed. He despised hospitals and even with his wounds, he just wanted to get out and move on. Whether or not he and John would stay was still questionable, but for now it didn't matter.

"I know you don't want to be here, Sherlock," John smiled as he took Sherlock's uninjured hand, "They said you can leave in the morning."

"And for now?"

John stood from his seat and gestured for Sherlock to shuffle over. Sherlock had turned onto his side, watching John intently before he shuffled back as far as he could on the bed. John's smiled as he climbed into the small space that was now left on the bed. Admittedly, he knew he shouldn't because of the state Sherlock was in, but after everything they went through, all he wanted was to be close.

"For now," John paused with a smile as he settled himself closer to Sherlock, "we sleep."

Sherlock's body froze as John wrapped an arm around him, burying his face into his chest. He knew he had been more than affectionate when they were trapped, but that was when their lives were at stake. They were out of the warehouse and in a hospital, perfectly safe now. So why was he like this?

"John?"

"Please, just for tonight."

He was just the same as Sherlock was towards him. Sill the fear and relief lingered and he just needed to be close. To know they were together and know they were alright. Sherlock wrapped an arm around John in return before closing his eyes. "Okay."

* * *

><p><em>Sherlock traced a hand down the metal door. <em>

_This was it. _

_He took in a deep breath before slowly reaching for the handle, and attempted to open it but it didn't budge. What? No! He tried again and it still didn't open "John! John! Can you hear me?" He banged on the door calling out John's name again before pressing his ear to the door. _

_"Sherlock?" the voice was panicked and fearful, but it was definitely there, "You didn't save me." _

_"No, I did!" _

_John's voice went silent as Sherlock slid to the ground, keeping one hand on the door. I saved you, John. I know I did. _

_The thick liquid seeped from under the door, hitting Sherlock's knees. He swiped his finger in it before tasting a small amount. _

_Blood? _

_Sherlock rose to his feet again, banging on the door again, louder and consistently. "John! John! Please." _

_A hand touched his shoulder from behind causing him to turn around slowly. Please, no. He backed up against the door as the hands settled on either side of the mask. Moments later the sound of metal unhooking themselves fell to the ground. The cold hands pulled the mask from his face. _

_Before he had caught any glimpses, Sherlock screwed his eyes shut in the fear of what he might see. _

_"Open your eyes, Sherlock," the man said in a soothing voice. It was definitely John, but Sherlock still didn't want to open his eyes, "Look at me." _

_He swallowed hard before opening his eyes, his blurred vision soon focusing on John. John smiled darkly, blood trailing down his face. _

_"Tell me, Sherlock. How did it feel?" _

_"F-feel?" _

_"To have the powers of God." John said as he raised a blood covered hand to Sherlock's cheek. _

_Sherlock scowled as he pulled away from his hand. "Stop it." _

_"You could have killed me." _

_"SHUT UP! YOU'RE NOT REAL!" _

_John smirked as he placed his hand back to Sherlock's cheek, smearing blood as he rubbed his thumb across his cheek, "I am so very real." _

"Sherlock."

_"No!" _

"Sherlock, wake up." John said, one hand on his cheek, the other on Sherlock's shoulder.

Sherlock shot up in the bed breathing heavily, his body shaking with tears in his eyes. He brought his knees close to his chest, hugging them as he buried his face into them. When John touched his back, Sherlock flinched. He was ashamed that John would see him like this.

"You had a nightmare?" John asked, Sherlock nodding in response. "What happened?"

Sherlock raised his head, staring blankly across the room. How was he supposed to explain to his best friend about his nightmare. "I-I didn't save you."

John pulled Sherlock closer to him. "I'm right here, Sherlock." He said, running his hand along Sherlock's arm in a soothing motion, "It's alright now."

Sherlock pressed his lips into a thin line, leaning into John's touch. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about." He shook his head slightly as John tightened his grip on him, "We should get some more sleep."

Sherlock nodded and allowed John to lead him to lying down, an arm under him and Sherlock's head resting on his chest. He didn't want to sleep again in fear that he might have more nightmares. "I'll be right here," John said before kissing into Sherlock's dark curls, "I promise."

Sherlock had slept in peace for the rest of the night, gripping John's shirt to make sure he was still there. He had no doubt that John would still be there in the morning, but after that nightmare he didn't want to take any chances.

When John started to wake up, he tightened his arm around Sherlock, stretching before sitting up slightly, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Good morning," John yawned with a small smile.

"Morning." Sherlock sat up on the bed, and looked away from John, "Look, about last night. I'm sorry. I know you said I shouldn't be, but-" he cut himself off, unable to find the proper words, "I don't know."

That's a first, John thought with a faint smile. He sat up on the bed and rested his forehead between Sherlock's shoulder blades. "It's going to be alright."

Sherlock had closed his eyes when he felt John's hand rest lightly on his back. They had barely noticed the blonde doctor walk in, cane at his side.

"How are we this morning, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock hummed in response, focusing on John's soothing touch. John had glanced up with a small smile before Dr. Lawrence - as seen on his name tag - continued speaking, "I'll have the nurse come in soon to check on you, but for now."

Dr. Lawrence held up a small package with a smile before placing it next to Sherlock who stared, examining it for a few moments.

There really wasn't much he could get from the small package. It was covered in brown paper with only his name written on it.

Hesitantly, Sherlock picked up the package and tore it open to reveal a small wooden box, carved with details along the edge, most likely Chinese. John was looking over his shoulder as he opened the box to reveal the mask he had worn the previous night.

He pulled the mask from the box before glancing up at Dr. Lawrence, "W-who sent this?"

"It was at the front desk when I was heading up here to check on you," he replied with a small shrug, "I thought I might as well bring it up for you."

Sherlock stared at the doctor for a moment before lowering his eyes to the obviously missing leg. When Dr. Lawrence noticed this, he shifted uncomfortably. "Like yourself, I was caught by Jigsaw," he started, "In the end, the only way I could save myself was to cut off from the ankle to escape."

He turned his attention back to the mask, fiddling with it slightly. Although it was technically evidence -barely- Sherlock had decided he might keep it as a reminder. When he went to place it back in the box, he noticed a small piece of paper down turned. He picked it up and read it to himself, ignoring John in the background asking what it was.

_After the dark comes the light. Forget the dark, Sherlock Holmes. It's not who you are, not anymore._

* * *

><p><strong>At the request of Kootenai, I give you '<em>After The Dark<em>'. So much OOC romance implied. I'm not even sorry~**


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